


The Art of Seduction

by playout



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Draco is a sexy bastard, Fluff, HP: EWE, Harry has a potty mouth, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playout/pseuds/playout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco are Auror partners assigned to go undercover at a muggle gay bar frequented by drug-dealing wizards. </p><p>Everyone knows Draco's gay, but that Harry has been nursing a crush on the pompous arse for years is not so well known. </p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Seduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bafflinghaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/gifts), [hypergraphia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypergraphia/gifts), [Chittsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chittsu/gifts).



> This silly fic is a gift for my own personal cheering section for their months of loyal reading and generous commenting. You guys are great and you inspire and encourage me to keep writing! <3

"Watch and learn, Potter," Draco drawled near his ear, passing Harry his glass for safe keeping. The music was so loud the firewhiskey inside vibrated in time with the pounding bass, which reverberated in Harry's teeth and lungs until his brain buzzed angrily and his blood thrummed along. Combined with the strobing lights (and his partner's trademark attitude) the tension headache that squeezed Harry's head like a vice had no chance of letting up any time soon. 

 _This is a bad idea_ , he thought, watching helplessly as Draco made his way onto the dance floor. _A **very** bad idea._

Unlike the other dancers, who had to fight for their little slice of tile, the sea of bodies parted like water around Draco as he glided through the throng, confident and deadly as a shark.

When he was squarely in the middle of the floor, he put his arms in the air and swung his hips to the driving beat, all long lines and shameless sexuality with his fashionably torn white cotton shirt exposing far too much at every dip and sway, skintight leather trousers that left little to the imagination, and smudged kohl around slate grey eyes lending a credible aura of cheap and dirty that belied his posh upbringing, Ministry job, and swanky London flat.

Harry's mouth went dry. Sweet Merlin, he shouldn't be allowed to move like that. He shouldn't be allowed to _look_ like that either, but that had long been Harry's opinion. It wasn't fair for someone so full of himself to be attractive enough to actually warrant all the attention Draco believed was his due.

Not surprisingly, it was only a matter of moments before some muscle-bound aresehole in an Ed Hardy t-shirt had insinuated himself behind and against Draco's lithe form as if he had any right to be there, when, in point of fact, he had none. _**None**_ , Harry's mind repeated angrily as he gripped the two glasses (his and Draco's--one in each hand, like he was a fucking human cocktail table) almost hard enough to crack their smooth surfaces.

...Speaking of _smooth_ , that bloody blond bastard thought he really was quite when he ground his arse against his newfound dance partner/proctologist and winked at Harry. Fucking winked!

Harry seethed.

Draco closed his eyes, reached his hands behind his head to pull Ed Hardy's down onto his neck (the tosser happily complied with open-mouth kisses enthusiastic enough to have Harry wondering if he might be a vampire), and looked to be enjoying himself far too much for Harry's well-being.

Harry chugged the rest of his beer and chased it with Draco's whiskey for good measure. Then he pushed his way into the crowd, avoiding groping hands and unwelcome advances as much as possible (which wasn't a lot). As he neared the pair, Ed said something into Draco's ear and Draco responded by angling his head to snog him obscenely. Ed, for his part, let his meaty hands wander where they willed--at turns gripping hard onto Draco's leather-clad hips, squeezing indentations into his neat little waist, and sneaking in the openings of his shirt to knead the flesh beneath.

Harry practiced his deep breathing exercises to keep from incinerating the man on the spot. (Healer Pendergast would be so proud.) 

He tried getting their attention but to no avail. Between the music and their self-absorption, they were oblivious to his efforts. "Excuse me!" he shouted over the din, tapping Ed firmly on his shoulder (where the cotton of his t-shirt was so strained Harry almost felt bad for it). Godrick, the man had to be at least 20 stone of solid muscle and he stood a full head taller than Harry, a few centimetres above even Draco, for all his rangy height. Ed glared down at Harry like he was a particularly loathsome insect and growled, "Piss off."

Draco snickered.

Not for the first time in their volatile partnership, Harry contemplated putting in a request for reassignment as soon as they got back to the office. 

Resolutely ignoring His Royal Pain in the Arse for the moment, he shouted up at Ed (who had rudely returned to snogging Draco while he spoke), "Um, hi. Terribly sorry, but that's my boyfriend with his tongue down your throat and he and I need to go have words. Now."

That got Ed's attention.

" _Boyfriend?_ " Draco mouthed at Harry, smiling a fox's smile. He turned to Ed with a dramatic, full-bodied sigh. "Well bother. Look's like I've been caught out." He extricated himself from Ed's grip and patted him condescendingly on his lantern jaw. "See you around, cupcake."

Ed gaped.

Harry took Draco by the elbow to pull him into a darkened corner. At least their cover would remain intact since it looked to be an authentic lovers' quarrel (what with Harry's very genuine furious scowl and stomping gait). 

He rounded on the prat as soon as they reached relative privacy. "This is a _mission_ , Draco," he hissed. "In case you've forgotten. We're supposed to be blending in, not drawing the attention of every fucking wizard in the club!"

Draco leaned indolently against the wall and smirked.

Harry's anger was so hot he expected steam to pour out of his ears at any moment. They'd been partners for five years. He had been in love with Draco for two. Draco had been an unrepentant arsehole for...probably since he was born.

"You asked for this case, didn't you? You fucking asked for this fucking stupid," _humiliating_ , "petty drug bust just so you could torment me."

Harry had thought that bigot Robards had assigned them the case because Draco was both an ex-Death Eater and the office poof. The Head Auror had a narrow mind and a long memory, except when it came to Draco's exemplary record as an Auror. If Harry hadn't volunteered to partner with the sod at the end of his training--when absolutely no one else would in spite of his near perfect scores on every last one of the academic, practical, and physical exams--he'd probably still be stuck in the office, filing paperwork and screening firecalls from frantic housewives.

Not that Draco had ever once thanked him for his selflessness or generosity. Currently, the ungrateful prick looked exceedingly smug, one of his three default facial expressions (the other two being _superior_ and _bored_ ).

"But I thought no task was beneath an Auror in the pursuit of justice and the protection of innocents, Harry," he countered, blinking his sooty eyelashes with false naïveté and tossing Harry's words from one of their first cases in his face. (Draco had been none too pleased when the clabbert smuggler's trail led them to the sewers.)

"There are wizards dealing--and using--class five controlled magical substances right here among all these helpless muggles," he continued virtuously. "So just remind yourself that you're wearing mesh for them." His smile was vicious and sharp as he pinched and released a bit of Harry's poor excuse for a shirt above his left pectoral. "And I must say," he drawled, quicksilver eyes sparkling with laughter, "you are wearing it rather well." 

Harry didn't know if he'd rather punch the git right in his pointy (perfect) face or shove him up against the wall and kiss the smirk right off of it. "We don't need to seduce anyone tonight, Draco," he ground out instead.

"That right there is why my arrest record is better than yours."

Harry dragged a hand down his face with an agonized groan. He was being punished--his whole shitty existence must be atonement for whatever atrocities he had committed in a former life. And Past Harry must have been a real piece of work because, seriously, Present Harry could not catch a break. He decided that if he ever had the opportunity, he would kick Past Harry square in the balls.

Flat out of both patience and options, he tried reasoning with Draco (because although that had literally _never_ worked in the past, there was a first time for everything, right?).

"Even if this assignment required seduction--which it doesn't, I can't stress that enough--I don't need any of your patronizing 'lessons.' I could pull a mark if the situation called for it."

Draco's expression went calculating. Never a good sign.

"Prove it," he challenged, pushing himself off the wall and looming over Harry.

Maybe it was the uncharacteristic huskiness of his voice. Maybe it was the whiskey. It could have been the bitter jealousy that still coursed through Harry's veins or even those damned leather trousers. Whatever the reason, he rose to the bait. He slammed his mouth into Draco's (heedless of the clacking of their teeth or sharp burst of pain and ensuing metallic tang of blood) and forgot all about their case--no space in his brain for protocol or perps, only the all-consuming need to push and seize and taste and claim. 

If letting Draco take to the dance floor had been a Very Bad Idea, Harry fisting his hands in Draco's shirt hard enough to tear it in two and snogging him with the ferocity of several years' worth of pent up sexual frustration and chronic vexation was a **colossally** bad one. Quite possibly the _worst_ idea in the entire storied history of bad ideas.

But, Oh Merlin, did it feel good.

Harry kissed like a man possessed, plundering Draco's mouth with his tongue and greedily swallowing his every gasp and sigh. His common sense screamed at him to stop, but when had Harry ever listened to his common sense where Draco was concerned? Now seemed an especially foolish time to start, particularly when Draco threaded his fingers in Harry's hair to hold his head in place as he nipped at Harry's tingling lips and shoved a thigh between his legs. 

Godrick, _yes_!

Harry lost all sense of time and place as they stood there rutting in public like a couple of horny teenagers. The only thoughts he seemed capable of were _yes_  and _finally_  and _more._ The Minister himself could order them to stop and Harry would flip him the V. The whole damn building could come down around them and Harry would neither notice nor care. If this was the only chance he'd ever have to snog Draco Malfoy, he would damn well make the most of it. 

Draco, bless his cold, black heart, seemed to agree. 

The kissed for long minutes, building to a critical and increasingly inevitable crescendo, when Draco suddenly broke away without warning. The pleading sound Harry made in response was not something he was proud of (but what else was new). 

Draco leaned his head against the wall and considered Harry with a wry twist to his grin. He looked utterly debauched--his hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed bright pink, his lips were swollen, and his shirt hung in tattered ribbons off his shoulders. He may have had a shiny new love bite on the pale column of his neck.

It took every last ounce of Harry's considerable will power not to dive back in for more. 

"Why, Harry," Draco breathlessly declared, "I had no idea."

Harry tried to adjust himself surreptitiously and grimaced. Those fucking skinny jeans were bloody unforgiving. 

"Bullshit," he retorted, running a shaking hand through his hair and glowering. "You wouldn't have let me kiss you otherwise."  

Draco chuckled. Harry couldn't hear it over the music, but he saw the tell-take jump in Draco's shoulders. "It seems I'm not the only Auror earning his keep for a change," he quipped. 

Harry would have taken umbrage at the insult were it not for the fact Draco chose that moment to lick his lips and Harry found himself unable to focus on anything besides the pointed tip of that wicked tongue as it shone in the club's flashing lights.

Draco noticed, of course. 

"Now that we're here," he continued, "I suppose I can admit to orchestrating certain events in an effort to spur you to action." He glanced over Harry's shoulder. "But that conversation should probably wait until after we've arrested our dealer."

Harry was suffering from an acute case of mental whiplash. "What?" he asked stupidly. 

Draco gestured lazily with his chin. "He's right behind you. Making a sale as we speak." 

Harry spun around, adrenaline quickening his lust-dulled reflexes.

" _Ed_ Fucking _Hardy_?!" he exclaimed.

Fortunately the music was loud enough to keep the sleaze and his buyer from hearing Harry's outburst even though they were just a few metres away.

"Did you know all along?" Harry demanded of Draco, wracking his brain to determine when his partner could possibly have figured it out.

Draco gave him a withering look. "Yes, Harry. I am an unparalleled super Auror with powers beyond your wildest imaginings," he responded dryly. 

Harry chose not to voice his opinion that after seeing enough of Draco's uncanny intuition in the field, he thought it was plausible. 

"It was pure coincidence he chose to dance with me," Draco explained, never taking his eyes off the perp in case a pensieve memory was needed in court. "However, it was my powers of seduction that led him to ask if I was looking to 'score' in more ways than one this evening." His voice was heavy with self-congratulation; at least this time it was warranted. Harry remembered Ed speaking into Draco's ear right before they'd started snogging. That must have been when he'd made the offer. "I must say, you played the role of jealous lover rather convincingly," Draco smirked. "It was enough to ensure he never suspected us."

"Yes and I suppose you orchestrated that, as well," Harry replied sarcastically. 

"Of course I did," Draco answered in full seriousness. "You don't honestly think I would have kissed that Neanderthal without an ulterior motive, do you?" He then prodded Harry's leg with the toe of his boot. "Now hurry up and arrest him so that we may continue your lesson."

Harry shook his head in dismay, but for once he didn't really mind the abominable prat bossing him around. 

**Author's Note:**

> That's all for now but I might come back to this universe some day. It has excellent potential XD


End file.
